“Well, I’ll be ——ed, if this country ain’t gettin’ awful salty, Brick. But what can we do? When they start shootin’ buckshot from ambush in the dark, what’s the use of us, I’d like to know? By cripes, I’d sure like to swap lead with the jigger that shot Soapy.” “I hope we will, Harp. In fact, I’m kinda sure we will.” “When?” Harp jumped out of his chair and grabbed Brick by the shoulders. “When do we start, Brick?” “As soon as we find out who shot him.” “Aw-w-w, ——!” Harp exploded his disgust and walked to the doorway. “I thought you had some idea who done it.” “It was somebody who wanted to kill Soapy Caswell—and they wanted it bad enough to bushwhack him with a shotgun. Now, if we can find out who wanted him dead——” “That ought to be easy, Brick. We’ll start askin’ questions as soon as it gets daylight, eh?” But the sarcasm of Harp’s question was lost upon Brick, who sat staring intently at the floor, trying to convince himself that certain things might be true. Bill Grant came to the office and sat down with them. “Doc’s pickin’ out shot,” he told them hopefully. “Soapy don’t know what it’s all about, but he’s doin’ a lot of cussin’ over it. Soapy’s a tough old customer and he’s got a fightin’ chance, boys.” “We’re pullin’ for him, Bill,” said Harp. “Brick is pullin’ for him—or for somethin’. When Brick gets to thinkin’ that-a-way, somethin’ is due to rattle real hard.” Brick looked up, his brow furrowed deeply. “Got an idea, Brick?” queried Grant. Brick sighed and reached for his cigaret makings. “It’s far-fetched, Bill. Mebbe it’s too ——ed far-fetched, but I’m goin’ to work on it.” They sat and talked until daylight, when they went over to the Dollar Down and searched for evidence. Some distance away from the saloon they found the empty shotgun cartridge. It was a 12 gage, brass shell. Brick examined it closely and dropped it into his pocket. “No clue in that,” he told them. “Every shotgun in the country is 12 gage, and mostly every one reloads their own shells.” They went down to the doctor’s office and found that Soapy was doing as well as possible. Grant got his horse and rode back to his ranch, while Harp and Brick went back to the office to get some sleep. “You goin’ to that Silverton dance Friday night?” asked Brick, as they pulled off their boots. “I dunno,” Harp shook his head sadly. “I was goin’ to ask Miss Miller, but I kinda lost my nerve. I found out about that dance after you went away yesterday; so I went right down to Wesson’s. Mrs. Wesson told me that Leach had been there early that mornin’ to ask Miss Miller to go with him. “I thought that ended it. Later on I met Mrs. Wesson and she said—” Harp snapped off a boot and flung it across the floor—“Mrs. Wesson’s the dangdest josher I ever seen, Brick. She said that she only told me that Leach had asked Miss Miller; but she didn’t say that Miss Miller refused him.”